


Your Ferdinand & you my wayward girl

by robotwitch



Series: Once more for the ages [3]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Drama, Idiots in Love, Marital angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 11:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17263802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotwitch/pseuds/robotwitch
Summary: In the years between adventures there are good times and bad, Nate and Elena have their fair share of each.





	1. I've a drowning grip on your adoring face

Nathan Drake is true to his word and gets her another story – not half as good as the coffin of Sir Francis Drake or El Dorado, but good enough for her producer.  He’s good for it and for… other things.

Though the other things may have taken slight precedence to getting a replacement story.  Elena can’t say she blames Sully for ducking out as quickly as he did; the dam of sexual tension about to burst as it was.

What does surprise Elena is that this isn’t just some one-night stand.  Granted, they did have to work together to get the replacement story, but even after that… Nate keeps calling.

It’s hard not to flatter herself that the sex is _that_ good – because it is.  But Elena’s heart flutters a little each his name appears on the caller I.D.

She declines the call and texts back.

 **[Me 9:51 PM]** Out with friends. Call back later

 **[Nathan Drake 9:58 PM]** OK

Elena rolls her eyes and shakes her head a little that it took him seven whole minutes to come up with just ‘OK’.  Then again, Nate always calls.  Never texts.  She can’t tell if it’s a lame attempt at acting gentlemanly or he’s just that much of a luddite.

“Who’s the guy?” Liz pries.

Elena quickly stashes her phone and lies, “No one.  Just someone from work.”

She’s so grateful the episode hasn’t aired yet because she’s absolutely positive every second of footage will reveal what was going on behind the camera.

“And you’re sleeping with him,” Jane fills in the blanks.

“There’s no guy!” Elena insists.

“So it’s a woman?” Liz teases.  “Finally!  Elena Fisher batting for our team!”

Of all of her friends, she had to be out with Liz and Jane when Nate called?  The ones with the keenest senses about her sex life?  And the most irritatingly cute couple she knows?

“Yes!  Okay!  You figured it out!  There’s a woman!  Happy?”

“Are you kidding?” Liz laughs.  “We’ve been praying for years that our token straight friend would turn out to be secretly gay all along!”

Elena groans and checks her phone again.  One missed call – Nate.

 **[Me 10:12 PM]** You call that later?

Jane pats her shoulder.  “Oh honey, we know there’s no woman.  We’re just curious why you’re being so secretive about this particular fling.”

Because of that exactly.  It’s just a fling.  It’ll be over soon – she has no delusions of that.

Nate may claim he’s not a ‘one woman in every port’ kind of guy, but if his other adventures are anything like theirs, Elena understands how easily another girl could fall for his roguish charm.

Finally giving in, “Because it’s not serious.”

Liz and Jane exchange a look.  Elena hates it when they do that.  There’s no way they can know exactly what the other is thinking.  They can’t have a private conversation right in front of her without uttering a single word.  It’s not fair.

Frustrated, “What?”

“It’s just –” Jane starts tentatively.

“We’ve never seen you blush over a text from anyone,” Liz puts it plain.

“That can’t be true,” Elena scoffs.  “What about that guy senior year?”

“Which guy?  What was his name?” Liz slams her glass on the bar, punctuating her point.

At the same time, another one is placed in front of Elena.  She stares at it blankly.  “I didn’t order this.”

“Compliments of that _guy_ over there,” the bartender points to the end of the bar.  Handing her a napkin as well, “He also told me to give you this.”

There’s a sketch of her toppling over El Dorado on it.  _Oh god.  Nate._

This time, Elena feels the heat rising to her cheeks.  She casts a cursory glance past Liz and Jane’s smugly inquisitive looks in the direction the bartender indicated.

Sure enough, Nathan Drake sits alone with a beer.  He pointedly keeps his eyes on the TV, though she’s pretty sure he doesn’t understand the rules of basketball at all.

“I can’t decide if we should be impressed or annoyed by his persistence,” Liz gawks.

“I’ll be right back.”  Elena slides off her stool and edges up next to Nate.  “Not exactly subtle, sitting down in the middle of a lesbian bar.”

“And here I thought I was blending in.”  He turns to face her, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.  What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering your phone.  Picked this place at random.”

Elena rolls her eyes.  Just her luck, he would walk into this particular bar on a whim.  Then again barreling through unknown territory is his trade.

“Okay.  You have to go.”

“I just got here.”

“But if you stay then I’ll have to introduce you to my friends.  And it will be a whole thing and I thought we were trying to keep it from not being a thing.”  She’s rambling now.

His face is more amused than anything else.  “Alright.  Let me at least finish my drink.”

Elena is puzzled by his good humor about it all.  It’s almost enough to make her feel guilty about pushing him away.

She mentally wrestles with herself, “Or…”

“Or…?”

“Or you could join us.  Don’t read too much into it.”

“If you want a night out with your friends, I can go.  This really was pure coincidence.  Do you want me to go?”

Elena bites her lip, torn between wanting him to stay and wanting to leave with him.

“Hey Elena!  Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”  Liz shouts across the bar.

 _Crap._   She took too long to make up her mind.

She grimaces, “I guess you’re about to meet some of my friends.  Just remember, they shoot footage, not bullets.”

“Don’t worry.  I got this.  It’s not like I go around advertising what I do for a living.”

Elena bets he would if he could.  But really, who would believe him?

\----------

It’s a relief Elena hasn’t asked to meet any of his friends.

Outside of Sully, who would Nate even introduce her to?  Flynn?  Cutter?  They’re more like work associates.  Anybody else he’s either alienated or cut ties with.

But Elena thankfully thinks friends on the constant move comes with the territory of being a treasure hunter, so she doesn’t push him.

What they have is good, it’s working.  He calls when he’s in town.  She texts.  They’ll get a drink, or he’ll meet her after a night out with friends.  The sex is incredible.  Sometimes they spend the night at his, sometimes at hers.  Then they go their separate ways.  Perfect.

Nate’s just barely walked through the door before Elena’s pushing him out of it again.  Her friends hoot from the bar; Nate half-waves as the door shuts behind them.

He doesn’t ask questions until they’re back at her place, naked and breathless.

“You know, if I had known you where that desperate for a fuck, I could’ve just met you here.”

Elena shoves him toward the edge of the bed, “Shut up.  You wanted it that bad too.”

Nate won’t deny it.  A job gone south requires something to lessen the frustration.

“Still, would’ve been easier on both of us to skip the bar.”

Elena groans and rolls onto her side to face him, propping her head up, “Do you feel the need to label this?”

Cocking his head, “What?”

“What we’ve got going on – do you feel the need to put a label on it?  Like are we dating?  Am I your girlfriend?”

Nate can’t help himself, he starts to laugh.

Not that Elena wouldn’t be great girlfriend material, but Nate’s pretty sure he leaves something to be desired in the boyfriend department.  Hell, the last woman he was with wouldn’t have even entertained this conversation.

“I’m guessing that’s a ‘no’ then.”

“Wouldn’t that require us to actually – you know – go on a date?” Nate asks when he finally collects himself.

“That’s what I said!”

 _Wait.  What._ Now he’s confused.  She wasn’t asking to make it official?

A knot releases in his stomach like when his feet finally find sturdy ground.  But just like scaling a wall without a harness, the thrill is gone.

Trying to sound neutral – better not seem relieved or disappointed, “What are you talking about?”

“Oh nothing.  Megan just kept trying to get me to admit we were dating.  Which is why I pulled you out of there – I didn’t want her trying to put a label on something that doesn’t need one.”

“Really?”

“Really.  Really.”

Nate’s surprised.  Every time he’s met Elena’s friends, they’ve all had better, more interesting things to talk about than speculating if this relationship is going anywhere.

“And so, you were just double-checking we were on the same page.”

“Pretty much.”  Elena rolls onto her back and stretches out.

Nate watches, unable to take his eyes off her.  He’s mindlessly sketched her so many times now, he thought he knew every line of her face.  But now all he can see are the details he can’t quite capture.  He wonders how much time it would take to draw her completely from memory.

He shakes his head in disbelief.  No.  He’s never considered making this official, but now that she’s brought it up, he can’t shake the idea.  But how would they even make that work?

This works because there are no expectations or strings.  And before they know it, they’re heading in opposite directions; her to film her next episode, him to god knows where.  Forget bringing feelings into it.

 _This_ works.  There’s no point in labeling whatever _this_ is.

“What do the rest of them think?”

Elena snorts, “They’re pretty divided on whether or not I should drop you or pin you down.”

“Mmm… I like the sound of that second one right about now.”

“Really?” she raises a keen brow.  Then throwing a leg over him, “Well then, if you insist.”

They go out for coffee the next morning.  Elena laments how desperately she needs to go grocery shopping as Nate chews his breakfast sandwich, happy to let her talk.

Not one much for sitting still, it never occurred to him how nice it is just to sit and listen.  Elena moves on from groceries to work to world politics with Nate interjecting here and there.

She asks about his latest job, “Any reanimated corpses?”

“Not this time.”

“Saving the best to show off?”

“Something like that,” he grins.

And Elena laughs.

 _Crap._ He could get used to this.

She might want to think about triple-checking in a few months.

\----------

No matter what she does, Daniel cannot let go of the fact she lost the camera and makes filming each new episode a living hell.  It makes Elena want to tear her hair out.

Though work’s not the only thing making her want to do that these days.

For the first time since finding El Dorado, Nate comes back from a job battered and bruised.  He tries laughing it off but ends up in worse pain. 

She wants to yell and tell him off for being so reckless, but then he makes a face like a puppy from an SPCA commercial and the rant dies in her throat.  The rest escapes in a sigh, it’s not her place to scold him.

Elena was _really_ looking forward to blowing off steam together, instead she ends up playing nursemaid as he falls asleep to the latest episode of _The Office_.  This was not the sort of pinned under him she had in mind for the evening.

When Nate starts to snore, Elena groans and rolls her head back against the wall.

Yes, it’s the frustration of being stuck beneath a slumbering oaf on her own couch, but it’s everything else too.  Her boss.  Her job.  Her friends.  _This_ – whatever _this_ is with Nathan Drake.

She could be doing more than this crappy TV show.  She _should_ be doing so much more.  While _Uncharted_ is her show – it’s a dead end.  It doesn’t have a standard format or air time.  She has no idea how to expand it or mold it into something truly great.  It’s a mess.

Mom was right when she said Elena would regret not creating something more substantial.  If only she hadn’t been so stubborn in wanting to prove she could her art history minor to use.

There are real things happening in the world that are destroying everything which peaked her interest in college.  And what is she doing about it?  Nothing that’s what.

Her phone buzzes on the coffee table.  Elena stretches over Nate to grab it and read the message.

 **[Liz 9:06 PM]** You coming out tonight?

Elena sighs.

 **[Me 9:07 PM]** Can’t. A little occupied atm

 **[Liz 9:07 PM]** Nathan Drake?

She rolls her eyes.  She’ll never understand how Liz is able to sus her out so easily.  And because she knows what’s about to follow.  She can hear the exhaustion through Liz’s texts.  Elena holds her breath.

 **[Liz 9:07 PM]** Nvm. Don’t answer that

 **[Liz 9:08 PM]** When you’re done, you know where to find us

 **[Liz 9:10 PM]** But seriously lena

 **[Liz 9:10 PM]** Don’t understand why you’re still with him

_There it is._

Ever since Megan tried to put a label on _this thing_ , Liz started keeping a shrewd eye out for _developments._   Barely a week later, Liz confronted Elena about it; insisting if their relationship wasn’t going anywhere, she might as well end it.

Elena fought back in the moment, pointing out not everyone is lucky enough to find the love of their life in college and she’s still having fun, so might as well let it be.  But Liz’s words have echoed in Elena’s ear ever since.

She _should_ want more out of a relationship.  Whatever _this_ relationship is with Nate is great, but can they really take it any further than this?  Could she bring Nate to meet her parents?  What would she even tell them he does for a living?

Not that she isn’t fond of Nate in her own way, but Liz has a point.  If they can’t even decide what _this_ is – what’s the point?

All the same, Elena could kill Liz for forcing her to realize this is about as far as things can go with Nathan Drake.

Her phone vibrates again.  She almost wishes it was another text from Liz.

 **[Daniel Smith 9:13 PM]** The episode is 3 minutes short

 **[Daniel Smith 9:13 PM]** The footage you got is complete garbage

 **[Daniel Smith 9:14 PM]** Did you seriously expect me to be able to use this crap?

Elena tosses her phone back at the table, but it slides off, still buzzing with new texts.  The clatter rouses Nate slightly.

“Woah, what did the phone ever do to you?”

“Nothing.  It’s just – people won’t shut up.”

He nods, but doesn’t inquire further, already drifting back to sleep.

She wonders how he does it, running headlong into dangerous situations day after day.  Sure, the thrill of it – there’s nothing like it.  But all the risk and the worry and the consequences.  It makes Elena’s head spin.

Not that he’s asked her to come on another adventure, but he did, and something happened to her, would someone tell her parents?  Or would she just disappear one day and never come back?

Is anyone waiting on bated breath for news of Nate?

And her spiral starts all over again.  What does she really know about him?

He’s a thrill-seeker and a historian of sorts, but Elena doesn’t know who his parents are, if he has siblings, where he went to school.  Heir of Sir Francis Drake or not, he’s not desperately waiting by the phone to hear if he’s okay.

They talk about their work, they talk about history, they have sex, there’s not really much else to _this_.  There’s no room for personal lives.

Liz’s words ring loudly in her ear.

But her phone rings louder.  ‘Daniel Smith’ glows on the screen.

In his stirring, Nate moved just enough for Elena to grab it off the floor.  But her finger hesitates over the ‘accept’ key.  She can’t deal with this right now and declines the call.  Let Daniel rant to her voicemail.

Thankfully, her laptop is now within reach too and Elena distracts herself with research for her next episode until the 10 o’clock news comes on.

She’s not sure if the low volume makes the images of what’s happening in the Caucasus easier or worse to digest.  Not even the words ‘War Criminal Zoran Lazarević dead’ scrolling across the bottom of the TV make Elena feel any better about the state of the world.

The news switches to more lighthearted topics and Elena’s focus shifts back to her computer, but her eyes are only glossing over her research.  In a new tab, she searches ‘careers in journalism’.

\----------

 **[Elena Fisher 11:25 AM]** Hey, when you’re back in town, can we talk?

Nate doesn’t respond.  He can’t when he’s hanging off the edge of a cliff.  But even once safe back in the motel, he doesn’t respond.

Elena should know by now, he’ll give her a heads up.  And beyond that she should know he’s not great at the whole texting thing.  He’ll call her once he’s stateside.

Although in hindsight, he should have anticipated this.  When Nate gets to her place, she suggests they get something to eat, but is mostly quiet over their pizza and beer.

Nate fills the empty air regaling his hunt for the seal of Charlemagne.  “And then Sully –”

“I canceled my show.”

“What?”

“It’s over.  I’m sick of it.”

Treading carefully as he can, “So what are you going to do instead?”

“I got a job as an investigative journalist.  They’re sending me and a camera guy to report on what’s happening in the Caucasus.”

“Are you serious?”

“Completely.”

“Elena, that’s crazy!”  There’s a sudden flash of danger in Elena’s eye, but Nate doesn’t back down, “You’ll be heading into the middle of a warzone!”

“You’re one to talk!  Constantly getting into scrapes and gunfights!  Provoking men with bands of mercenaries at their backs!”

“That’s different!”

“Barely!”

“What so you want to end up like one of those journalists on the news, being held for ransom!”

“Hey!  I don’t lecture you about your line of work!  You don’t get to lecture me!”

Nate’s about to retort when the waiter coughs.  The pizzeria is totally silent, even the kitchen staff is watching their fight.  The words die in his throat, and he asks for the check instead.

As Nate throws some cash on the table, Elena storms out ahead of him.  She paces by the car, fuming.

“Don’t you dare speak,” she holds up a hand.  “My turn.  I’ve seen what you do.  I know how dangerous it is.  And I know how dangerous it will be in Georgia, but this is what I want to do.”

Elena pauses, but Nate senses she isn’t done.  He bites his tongue, waiting for her to go on.

He knows what he does is dangerous.  If it’s not hired goons shooting at him, it’s climbing on unstable structures or the various traps he could fall into.  But it’s not always that way.  He’s had a handful of clean and easy jobs, it’s just his luck that most of them aren’t.

But walking straight into the war-torn streets of a foreign country with a camera is just _stupid_.

“I’m making this change for me.  And I wasn’t really asking your opinion anyway.”

“Then why bring it up?”

She breathes deep, “Because I wanted to do you the courtesy of breaking _this_ off in person.”

Nate blinks.  His ears must be ringing, she wants to do what now?

“Just because I have objections to your job, doesn’t mean we have to –”

“Let’s not kid ourselves.  This has been fun, but it’s not going anywhere.  And now we’ll be in completely different parts of the world for who knows how long.  I think, we’ve reached our natural end.”

Exhaling, Nate runs a hand through his hair.  She’s right.  Of course, she is.  Doesn’t mean he’s ready to let go.  Still, he’s not so certain he’s ready for anything more than what they’ve got.

Now he’s pacing.  Unable to make a convincing argument otherwise and unwilling to go any further than they’ve come.

Turning back towards her and nodding his head, “Yeah.  Okay.”

“I’m sorry.  I know it sucks, but I just don’t see this going any other way.”

“No no no.  You’re right and I get it.”

“You’re sure you’re okay with it?”

“Do I get a choice in being dumped?”

“Well, since we were never technically dating, I can’t technically dump you.”

Nate half-chuckles, “Point taken.  So, I guess this is it.”

He never thought they’d be parting ways on the edge of a parking lot.  Then again, he should’ve seen it coming.

“I’m so used to getting double-crossed, it feels weird to have the heads up.”

Elena laughs, though tenuously.  She takes a slow step forward and reaches for Francis Drake’s ring.  She examines it a moment then meets his gaze.

“I – uh,” his mouth goes dry trying to think of a way to say ‘goodbye’ that doesn’t like he’s pinning his hopes on crossing paths again.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Nate.”

“You too, Elena.  Be careful out there.”

He means it.

She pulls out of the parking lot, leaving Nate to make his own way home.  As he walks down the sidewalk, his phone rings.

Sully greets him on the other end of the line, “Hey, kid.  I know you just got back, but have I got a hell of job for you.”

“Can it wait, Sully?  I’m not in the mood.  Elena and I just split.”

“Hey, that’s too bad.  She was one of your better girls.”

“Yeah.  She was.”

\----------

Between the horrific scenes of violence and poverty, Elena stops to review their footage.  God, the camera doesn’t even capture the full scope of it.

She fast forwards, not needing to see it all again.  When her eye catches a bald head leading the soldiers through the streets.

“Jeff, come look at this.”

“It’s a bunch of soldiers.  We see them every day.”

“No, I know, but look right there.  That one.”

The man turns his head to reveal an ugly scar across the right side of his face.

“Holy shit.  That’s –”

“Zoran Lazarević.”

So much for NATO’s attempt on his life.

\----------

Chloe has always been something of a whirlwind in Nate’s life.  A chance meeting, every job they worked together, her driving, the sex.  He can’t say he missed it, but it’s not an unwelcome change of pace either.

 _Anything to forget about – nope.  Not gonna think about_ her _.  Especially not now._

After Chloe slips out of his hotel room, back to Flynn, Nate falls back onto the bed.  Try as he might, he can’t remember exactly why he walked out on Chloe.

They were good together.  Maybe too good.  They made a great team; she didn’t have any difficulty keeping up with him, has areas of expertise he doesn’t, and then there’s her ass…

Not that Nate could ever forget it, but she was damn good at reminding him it was there too.

Yes, Chloe Frazer is exactly the sort of distraction Nate needs.

Maybe he won’t be such an idiot this time.


	2. Strong warnings in the guise of gentle words

Smiling broadly, his laugh transforms into a declaration, “I love you.”

Each word hits her like another grenade, heart-stopping but for a thousand different reasons.

Elena teases, “I bet you say that to all the girls you nearly get killed.”

Nate cups her cheeks in his hands, “No.  Just you.”

Her body aches from shrapnel wounds, but it aches from missing him more.

She’d convinced herself she didn’t.  Distracted herself with work and tried to force herself to be angry with him when she saw him again, but it all amounted to nothing because a few simple words can make her weak at the knees.

Or maybe it’s the wooziness from the strain of being up and about too long.

“I need to sit down.”

Nate helps her to a bench, “Didn’t mean to make you faint.”

“There’s not much that doesn’t these days,” she grimaces.  “Stay with me.”

She makes a space beside her and Nate gingerly puts his arm around her shoulder.  Elena nestles closer, making herself as comfortable as possible while they watch the village children play.

Over their heads, Elena spots Sully speaking with Chloe.  Neither are quite what Elena expected when she met them, but both fit perfectly into this world of adventure in a way she never thought she could.  But by that logic, it should be Chloe with Nate’s arm around her.

Sully points to something in their direction.  When Chloe turns to look, Elena catches her eye and waves; if there is any hint of jealously or resentment, Elena can’t see it at this distance.  Chloe smiles back.

Suddenly curious, “So, what happened with the pair of you?”

“Who?  Me and Chloe?  You really want to drag that old skeleton out of the closet _now_?”

Elena shrugs, “Yeah, why not?  Entertain me while I’m convalescing.”

“I promise you, Chloe and I are ancient history.”

“So was the city you just destroyed, but I know more about it than I do about you.”

Nate doesn’t retort or protest.  He goes quiet.  Not like when he’s examining artifacts or putting clues together, he’s just silent.

“Never mind.  Forget I asked.  If you don’t want to tell me, it’s okay.  It’s just – it’s weird to be in love with a man I barely know.”

His eyes shine with her own admission, but his face is still lined with sadness.  “Elena, you do know me – who I am now anyway.  It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, but there are parts of my past I’d rather forget, which makes it difficult.”

If what he’s saying is cliché, Elena doesn’t care; earnestness wears well on Nathan Drake.  And if he’s willing to tell her everything, she’s willing to wait til he’s ready.

“Start with the good parts.”  Elena reaches for his hand, “We’ll make our way to the rest.”

Nate beams and begins telling her how he met Chloe; she should have guessed it all started with Chloe holding a gun to his head.

And one story unfolds into another.  It shouldn’t surprise Elena listening to Nate open up is like discovering buried treasure, every bit as exciting and rewarding as the last, but it does.

Home feels more foreign to her than Tibet; Nate helps her carry her bags and settle in.  Elena lingers by the door, not ready for life to go back to normal, fearing they’ll fall into old patterns.

“That’s everything,” Nate declares.  “I’ve got to go make sure there’s not an eviction notice on my front door.”

“But you’ll be back, right?” she can’t hide the waver in her voice.

“Yeah.  I’ll be right back and then I’ll tell you all about the first time Sully had to bail me out of jail.  Sound good?”

Elena nods.  Nate kisses her forehead before closing the door behind him.

Alone, Elena sinks onto the sofa and finally digs out her phone.  There are a dozen or more unread messages she’s been ignoring since Nepal.  Liz makes up the majority, begging to know when she’s coming home.  A few from dad checking in.  One from Jeff, telling her he’ll meet her in the lobby.

Inhaling sharply, reality comes crashing down.  She nearly died.  Jeff is dead.  Someone has to tell his husband; it may as well be her.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats over and over.

Dully, “You did everything you could.”

The line cuts off.

Elena shakes.  It feels like Nate’s been gone for ages; she wishes he would hurry up.

When her hands are steady again, she scrolls through dad’s messages.  The date and timestamps are weird from halfway across the globe.

 **[Dad 11:44 AM]** Saw the news. Hope you’re alright

 **[Dad 7:25 AM]** Your mom made your favorite chicken for dinner tonight. Thinking of you

 **[Dad 3:12 AM]** Assuming no news is good news. Love you sweetpea

Choking back a sob, Elena calls the house.  She has no concept of what time it is there, but when mom answers, hot tears of relief splash onto her cheek.

“Yeah.  Yeah.  I’m okay.  It was just a long trip.  Happy to be home.”

“Alright.  You’ll have to tell us all about it later.  Thanks for calling, dear.”

“Sure thing, mom.  I’ll come visit soon.”

The buzzer sounds as she hangs up.

It’s Nate with a backpack over his shoulder and a duffle bag in hand, “Wasn’t sure how long you wanted me to stay.  Hope it wasn’t too presumptuous.”

It isn’t difficult to imagine Nate living his entire life out of those bags.  Somehow the thought of him laying it all at her feet brings a smile to her face.

Elena steps aside to let him in, “Not at all, Mr. Drake.”

\----------

Ever since they got off the plane Nate’s been tugging at his collar.  Yet somehow it keeps tightening around his neck.

“Quit fidgeting.  You’re gonna be fine,” Elena assures him for the ninetieth time.

“I will, if you do.”

Immediately, Elena lets go of the hem of her sleeve; she’s been fussing since before they even took off.  Driving, at least, keeps her hands occupied.  Nate continues to pull at the neck of his sweater.

“My parents are not that scary, I promise.”

“Easy for you to say, but I don’t exactly have the best track record with parental authority.”

“You’re confusing them for nuns again.”

“I don’t have the best track record with them either.”

She slaps his hand away from tugging one last time when they ring the doorbell and then Elena is enveloped in a flurry of hugs and kisses from her dad then mom and both of them together.

“You must be Nathan.”  Her dad holds out his hand, “Jim Fisher.”

Firming up his grip, “Nathan Drake – Nate.”

“Well, let’s not linger out in the cold,” Elena’s mom ushers them inside.  “I’m Patricia.  It’s lovely to meet you, Nate.”

Nate swallows the lump in his throat.  Elena’s parents are so… normal.  Maybe he’s caught a few too many episodes of TV showing the crazy parents and in-laws, maybe it’s his own messed up family that had him worried, but Elena was right.

They show him the house then give him the baby picture tour.  Elena begs them to stop, but they’re so proud of everything she’s accomplished from academics to filmmaking.  Jim hands Nate a picture from Elena’s college graduation, holding her diploma and flanked by her parents.

And suddenly Nate knows exactly how he’ll fail in their assessment of him as Elena’s boyfriend.  He squirms twofold; the word still chafes and it’s only a matter of time before the interrogation begins.

“So, Nate,” Patricia begins as they pass the pork loin around the table, “Elena tells us you’re a bit of an amateur archeologist.  Where did you go to school for that?”

“I didn’t.  Hence the ‘amateur’ part,” he tries to laugh.  “It’s all more self-directed research, if you will.”

“Yeah, he really throws himself into it,” Elena smirks.

Nate grins too.  They didn’t rehearse per se, but they knew they couldn’t tell her parents what he actually does.  Better not to omit it entirely though.

“What _did_ you go to school for then?” Jim pursues further.

His leg starts to bounce under the table.  “Nothing.  I didn’t go to college.”

“Ah.”  He watches Jim’s lips purse as he digests that fact.  “Well, there have been plenty of successful people who didn’t.”

“What about your parents?  They didn’t want to see you get a higher education?”

“Mom!” Elena exclaims.

“Oh!  I’m sorry, Nate.  I didn’t mean to –”

“It’s alright, Patricia,” he cuts her off before she can apologize too profusely.

Except of course, it’s not okay; it feels like he can’t breathe.  Not from choking, but like all the air’s been sucked from the room.

Nate hasn’t unburied his memories of his parents since he met Sully.  Unearthing them for Elena has been harder than he expected.  He started with how the old bastard came into his life, how he found Francis Drake’s ring; somehow imagining Sully had his back through the orphanage, dad’s abandonment, and mom’s death was the only way he could tell her.

And then there’s Sam buried even deeper still; Nate can hardly think the name without seeing the blood spill from his mouth.  His brother can stay buried though.  No one has to have siblings, but people don’t just come out of thin air.

Elena squeezes his hand under the table.  Whispering, “I’m sorry.  I told them not to.”

“They didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Still.  They should’ve known better.”

They stay on more neutral topics for the rest of dinner; Elena is the best common ground they could ask for.  They discuss her next assignment, travel, news, etcetera.  Nate does manage to impress them slightly with his extensive knowledge of ancient to Renaissance history.

And then dinner is over, and they retreat to Elena’s childhood bedroom.  Nate peruses her collection of old knick-knacks and photographs as she says goodnight to her parents.

Tacked to a corkboard, Nate finds a picture of Elena celebrating her victory over a mountain.  He takes it down to examine it closer, she couldn’t have been more than sixteen.

Appearing at his elbow, “That was at Pikes Peak.  I charged up the mountain not realizing there was a footpath further up the road.  Made the hike back down _so_ much easier.”

“The trip back down always is.”

“Hey, are you alright?  My parents are really sorry about dinner.  They want to make it up for it.”

Nate makes a noncommittal sound.  His life is what it is.  He keeps his past buried in order to keep moving forward.

“Nate?  Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m looking forward to that hike tomorrow – now that I know you prefer to skip the trail.”

Humorlessly, “Ha.  Ha.”

“Bet I can still beat you to the top.”

“Are you kidding?  I’ve been up Sugarloaf so many times I don’t need the path.  What’s the bet?”

Her parents trail far behind them on the path and while Nate’s naturally a better climber, Elena wasn’t joking.  She blazes forward, no need for him to slow down or let her win.

Looking back at him, Elena smiles brighter than the faded picture.  Impulse swells in Nate’s chest as he makes the final push towards her; anything to keep her eyes shining, he sweeps her up into a kiss.

Breaking apart, “You won.  Marry me.”

\----------

Wedding planning is a nightmare, Elena realizes instantly.  And if nothing else proved Nate is no good at planning ahead, this would be enough.

Worst of which is extracting an invite list from him.  He hesitates about anyone he knows that isn’t Sully.

“What about Chloe?”

“You want to invite my ex to the wedding?”

Even once the list is a decent length, treasure hunters and thieves are not among the most reliable or committal folk.  Elena decides a ‘sit anywhere’ policy is probably best to disguise how few are in attendance for Nate.

She knows it’s corny and overdone to do a beach wedding, Liz even tries to dissuade her, but it tickles her to have the wreck of the _Urca de Lima_ behind them as they say their vows.

Elena squirms through dress shopping until she realizes no one has noticed her scars.  Mom gravitates towards more old-fashioned styles, which are fine, but Liz and Jane eventually win out, directing Elena to something simple, yet elegant.

Sully drags Nate out of town, for what he calls Nate’s bachelor party, but Elena assumes is just another job.

“Just bring him back in one piece!”

“Ye of little faith, Elena.”

Her own bachelorette winds up as a classic bar crawl, concluding at their favorite joint for last call.

Liz catches Elena fruitlessly checking her phone again for any messages.  Covering the screen, “Oh come on!  Don’t be that kind of a bride-to-be!”

“Alright!  Alright!  I’m putting it away!

“I don’t know why you’re checking your phone anyway, even I know Nate doesn’t text.”

Liz is right, but it doesn’t make her any less nervous.  _What if he does something reckless and he ends up at the alter in cast?  Or is hospitalized and we have to reschedule?_   She hates that wedding brain has taken over.

“Hey.  That dirty, old man you’re having me walk down the aisle with is gonna take care of him.  You know, bring him to a strip club, etcetera.”

“That’d be a lot safer than what they’re probably doing,” Elena scoffs.

Liz’s brow furrows.  “You know, I never asked why you got back together.  You were never unhappy when you were ‘dating’ –” she puts finger quotes around it.  “And I’m not trying to stop the wedding, but as your _best friend_ , I have to wonder.”

Elena’s never really stopped to ask herself either.  But after Shambhala, Nate’s been a different person or maybe this is just side of him she couldn’t see before.  Open and steady and selfless.  Still impulsive, but he wouldn’t be Nathan Drake otherwise.

But then , she changed too.  She’s seen things people like Liz wouldn’t believe.  She nearly died.  Everything just came into focus after that; the things she wanted, a relationship with Nate, a future together.

“We both grew up.  And suddenly it wasn’t just about the sex anymore.”

Liz scrunches her face.  “But it’s still a little about the sex, isn’t it?”

Elena laughs and, at the same moment, her phone rings.  “Nate?”

“Hey, just wanted to let you know we landed.  How’s the bachelorette?”

“Good, but I think most of us are about ready to pass out.”

Chuckling, “Alright.  Well, I’ll see you back home.”

“See you there.  Love you.”

The call ends, but a moment later there’s a text.

 **[Nate 2:02 AM]** Love you too

As Elena grins to herself, Liz rolls her eyes.  “You guys are adorable.  It’s disgusting.  Really.”

“Now you know how I felt, watching you and Jane all those years.”

The last few days before the wedding are a blur of relatives and old friends and a few surprise arrivals for Nate; Charlie Cutter is a real hit at the rehearsal dinner.

None of it catches up with Elena until she’s standing at the top of the aisle.  She nearly stumbles at the sight of Nate in a tux, but then his face is just as stupefied.  She giggles at him, but when he finally meets her eye, they beam.

When Elena reaches the altar, her knees have gone weak and she fears they will give out.  But Nate is there to support her, winding his arm around her waist.

“You ready?” he whispers as the officiant begins.

“As I’ll ever be.  You?”

The officiant coughs expectantly, prompting Nate to begin the vows.

Elena knows the words – who doesn’t – but until this moment, their full impact was lost on her; they’re in this together now for better or worse.

\----------

“Yeah?  Okay.  Okay.  Yes!  Thank you so much!”  Elena hangs up the phone.

The anticipation is near killing Nate, “So?”

“I got the job!”

Nate jumps up from the couch and grabs Elena by the waist, spinning her around.  She laughs and him closer by his collar, kissing him exuberantly.  It doesn’t take much prompting to carry her to the bed to celebrate her promotion properly.

After, Nate leans back against the headboard.  Still in awe, “Foreign correspondent.”

“Beats the hell out of my crappy show, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, I don’t know.  I hear the dating opportunities for show hosts are pretty decent.”

Elena gives him a little shove then nestles under his arm.

“So, what’s the first assignment?”

“They’re sending me to Yemen for a few weeks with their former correspondent.  She’s gonna introduce me to her contacts, show me the ropes.”

“Yemen, huh.  Never been.”

“You could come with me.”

Nate breathes in deep.  He hasn’t been out of the country since their honeymoon.  Not for lack of trying, but most clients consider Elena a liability, and won’t hire him for any jobs.

He shakes his head, “No.  I’d be too much of a distraction.  Maybe next time.”

It’s strange to take Elena to the airport and not get on a flight himself.  Stranger still to come home to their empty apartment; Nate’s not exactly sure what to do with himself.

He’s restless, that much is certain.  He wanders from room to room, opens the fridge and closes it again without grabbing anything.  He stares at Elena’s book collection; digs out his box of old notebooks and flips through them.

Near the bottom, on top of a bound white leather journal, is a battered notebook, not even half filled.  A mystery left unsolved; a treasure left undiscovered.

He stares for a long while at the map of Drake’s route across the Indian Ocean then at the sketch of the decoder.  It doesn’t add up, never has.

Pulling Elena’s old textbooks off the shelf, Nate refreshes his memory of what history tells them and searches for some hint of the truth hidden behind it.  He reaches for _The World Encompassed_ next, rereading it cover to cover, making new notes in the margins.

Throwing himself into research, Nate hardly notices two weeks have passed.  He’s halfway through Harry Kelsey’s biography when he realizes the time; Elena was due to land an hour ago.

She picks up the phone after one ring, “Where are you?”

“I’m on my way.  Sorry, Elena.”

She’s understandably irritated when he arrives, slamming the car door a little too hard.  More so when she sees the state of the apartment, books and maps and takeout containers everywhere.

Nate hurriedly clears a spot on the sofa for her to collapse.  “How was your trip?”

“Good.  I would ask how your alone time was, but I don’t think I need to.”

Sheepishly, “I got a little swept up.”

Picking up the nearest biography.  “I thought you were already the Francis Drake expert.”

“Doing some refresher work.  I’ll clear all this up.”

She nods and does her best to stay awake until the jetlag wins out.  Nate puts away everything that hasn’t proved useful before returning to his spot on the couch and in the Kelsey bio.

As he continues reading, it dawns on him all this research is leading nowhere.  He’s no closer to the truth now than he was twenty years ago.  Smarter – cleverer, but without the decoder Nate doesn’t have a clue.

Then again, without Drake’s ring, neither does Marlowe.

\----------

Though he doesn’t spread out quite as much as he did while she was gone, Nate continues his research.

Elena watches him with curiosity as he pursues his theory further; she doesn’t get it.  She doesn’t understand what about this mystery is so important or why he’s so invested in it now.

Sully’s in and out of town more often than before.  He and Nate look at maps and trade theories; they talk in hushed voices like she can’t hear them across the room.  That Marlowe woman from Nate’s story of how he met Sully is mentioned more than once.  And Drake’s ring is on the table more than it’s around Nate’s neck.

She tries to block out the whispers with her own research.  She’ll be back in Yemen in a few weeks, she should at least try to get some of her own work done.

She tries not to let it bother her when Sully goes back to his hotel for the evening that neither of them have explained what they’re up to.

But curled up next to Nate in bed, she fiddles with Drake’s ring, wondering.

Sully’s back in the morning before Nate’s awake; Elena sees an opportunity.

“You two aren’t about to try circumnavigating the world, are you?”

Sully chuckles, “Come on, darling.  You know I’m too old for a goddamn stunt like that.”

A nonanswer.  Elena inhales sharply, about to pry further, but Nate emerges from the bedroom and he and Sully get to work.  Another day of whispering and maps and secrets goes by.

The door closes behind Sully and Elena can’t hold back any longer, “Are you going to clue me in on what you’re up to any time soon?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re kidding, right?  The biographies, the maps, the ring.  I think I know you well enough to know when you’re gearing up for a job.”

“It’s not a job, Elena.”

“Then what is it?”

“We’re working on a hunch.”

Elena rolls her eyes, “Because that explains everything.”

“What do you want from me?”

“The truth.  Don’t I deserve that much?”

“There’s nothing to tell.  We’ve barely gotten started.”

“Then why all the secrecy?”

She’s seen that look on his face before; the sheer determination, it’s the one he wears when he’s so close to all the answers.  But then Nate breaks eye contact and leans over the table where their research still lies out.

She doesn’t like it, but she knows why he’s being cagey, “It’s going to put you in danger, isn’t it?  Nate, please.  Just tell me.”

His posture tenses, “I’m going to bed.”

“Nate!”

The door closes behind him and Elena is left alone.

He’s shutting her out.  They’ve come so far, opening up and sharing.  She doesn’t want to fight him to know what’s going on in his head – she shouldn’t have to.

But their next few weeks are spent with this strained tension mounting between them.  Avoiding any discussion of Nate’s secret mission.  And Elena tries to ignore how much his silence hurts.

At the airport, his lips barely graze her cheek in parting.

When she returns, he’s not there at all.

\----------

Nate goes home a few times, but it’s the same every time they see each other, fighting without raising their voices or silence.

What’s worse is he knows Elena’s right, but if he told her what he was up to…  Well, she’s never been one to be left behind and he can’t drag her into this one.  Not this time.  Not again.

So, he stays with Sully.

The couch isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but Nate’s stayed on it so many times before this, it almost feels like home.

He remembers the first time, just after Cartagena; just bailed out of prison, kicked out of the ramshackle place they were living, Sam doing jail time.  And he tries not to think about the last time; Sam dead, the search for Avery’s treasure abandoned.

There were plenty of times in between for some reason or another, but this time feels more like the last than anything else.  Nate doesn’t mention it and neither does Sully.

The couch serves as his bed and an office, the coffee table his desk.

Only now there’s nothing left to do but wait for Cutter’s call.

Nate opens the Julian Stafford Corbett biography to the section on Drake’s journey across the Indian Ocean, but his eyes gloss over the page.

His wedding ring glints distractingly on his finger.  It slides off easily and Nate examines it from all angles.  No matter how he looks at it, the choice eats away at him.

Not Elena – God, he could never regret Elena.  But to walk away; he might count it as the stupidest thing he’s ever done.  He almost wishes Sully would kick his ass off the sofa and tell him to go back to her, but that’s not Sully’s way.  Never has been.

Nate spins the ring on the coffee table, letting it taunt him.  Mesmerized, Nate doesn’t notice his phone buzz on the other side of the table.

It isn’t until his phone rings that his trance is broken.  He doesn’t recognize the number.

“Finally,” says the voice on the other end.  “Don’t you ever check your messages?”

“Chloe?”

“No need to sound so surprised.”

“I was just expecting another call.”

“You mean Charlie?”

“Yeah.  How did you know?”

“He filled me in on the job.  It sounds like you’re going to need a good getaway.”

“Alright.  Fine.  You’re hired.  Now I’m hanging up, so Cutter can reach me.”

“As I said before: you ought to check your messages.  Charlie’s in.  This plan of yours might just actually work.  Call me when you get to London.”

Chloe hangs up.

Nate reels slightly, before shouting, “Hey Sully!  We’ve got a plane to catch!”


	3. From the family wider net absurd

Pressed chest to chest, Elena traces Nate’s scars.

He flinches slightly when she gets too near to the bullet wound from Flynn, but her fingers linger there.  Compared to his, Elena’s scars have almost completely faded, though she expects the memory never will.  Not for Nate and certainly not for her.

“You’re not the only one who gets to be scared of losing someone.”

“I’m starting to learn that.”

Elena swallows.  “So, how do we stop ourselves from doing this again?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t know.  It’s always been a dangerous business – and I don’t see that changing.  Unless…”

Nate trails off.  She can see the wheels turning in his head, like when he’s putting together clues.

Prompting him, “Unless?”

“Unless I give it up,” he finally says.  “Get a real job.”

“But Nate –”

“Just hear me out.  I’ve been an idiot.  And I want to give _this_ – give _us_ a real shot.”

Elena chews her lip.  He’s said it himself, she knows him better than anyone, maybe even Sully, and this life – it’s a part of him.  She couldn’t ask him to give it up.

“Just like that?  You’d leave everything behind?”

“Yeah.”

She could never ask him, but if he’s willing.

Breathing deep, “Okay.  Let’s try it.”

Nate pulls her tighter.

They both make compromises.  Nate walks away from treasure hunting; Elena leaves the foreign correspondent’s position.  She finds a job at a travel website; a salvage company in New Orleans offers him work after a single phone interview.

Elena agrees to the move on the condition they buy a house, rather than rent; she can work from anywhere, but she’d love an office of her own.  Nate is hesitant to such a financial commitment until after they’ve seen a few places; she thinks it’s the attic space which wins him over.

Liz and Jane come over to help them pack up the apartment.  Jane thrives on cleaning house, helping them purge before the move.  Combined, the trash and donate/sell piles dwarf the keep selection.

“What do you want to do with these?” Jane drags a few boxes out of the back of the closet.

Nate barely glances at them before declaring, “Keep.”

Elena raises a skeptical brow, “You hardly look at that stuff.”

“Yeah, but Sully’s got the rest.”

“The rest?”

Sure enough, Sully arrives at their new doorstep with a truck load of trinkets and mementoes from Nate’s adventures.

Balking, “I didn’t realize you were such a packrat.”

“Neither did I.  When I picked him off the street, he had nothing.  Can’t tell you how glad I am to get his goddamn crap out of my house.”

“You guys are exaggerating.  It’s not that much.”  Except when they finally get the last box into the attic, there’s barely any room for anything else.

Elena wipes her brow, “So much for storage space.  Remind me to thank Jane again for helping us get rid of all our other junk.”

Life settles into a routine.  Nate gets up before dawn to head down to the warf.  Elena works from her office, taking breaks when she gets writer’s block to unpack.  When Nate gets home in the evenings, they sort through his collection together.

He doesn’t rid himself of much, but Elena helps him organize it by adventure and discoveries as much as she can.  The small pile of sellable trinkets yields enough make money not so tight.

There’s even enough left over for a vacation at the end of their first year in the house.  They pick somewhere neither of them have been before and pack their bags.

Elena forgoes her camcorder in favor of her DSLR; the city markets as beautiful to her as the vast landscapes.  She reluctantly spends as much time in front of the camera as behind it – Nate insists.

Carefully handing her camera to strangers, Elena ensures there are pictures of them together too.

Out of habit, Nate carries a notebook to sketch in.  He is drawn to intriguing artifacts almost compulsively, though resists pocketing anything without paying.

“I’m gonna need another box for this trip,” he jokes.

“Don’t even think about it.  I’m cataloguing all our travels from now on.”

Coming home, Elena unlocks the front door.  The house is just as they left it, there’s still an unfamiliarity to it, but it’s home.  Exhausted, the pair of them collapse next to each other on the couch.  Unpacking can wait.

\----------

For the first time, Nate realizes he has friends – or coworkers who aren’t likely to double-cross him and who invite him out for beers at the end of the day.

Jameson, in particular, takes it upon himself to get to know him and Elena.  He asks them both over for dinner to meet his wife and kids.

It comes out accidentally not all the work Nate’s done has been totally legal.

“You think any of us have lived our lives completely honestly, Nate?  Hell, a handful of the guys are ex-cons.  Even I’ve bent a few rules here and there.  Doesn’t mean we’re bad people.”

“How does Karla feel about it?”

“One of us has to be the better half,” Jameson laughs.

Nate looks over at Elena, enjoying her own conversation with Karla.  There’s no doubt in his mind she’s his.

It’s been an adjustment, waking up every morning knowing what to expect.  There are no lost cities or treasures of immeasurable wealth, but no gunfire or racing heart either.  Settling into this peaceful lifestyle is almost too easy.

For a time, Nate leaves the attic closed.  He focuses on Elena, his job, building these new relationships.  And occasionally, he still digs through muck to find someone else’s treasure.

He’s out with the guys one night when Jameson hands him a file, “Ripe for the picking.”

Nate waits til he’s home to open it.  The first item is a news article about a wreck off the coast of Malaysia; there are maps, estimated values of cargo, but it’s missing a piece of paperwork Nate’s grown quite familiar with.

He approaches Jameson the next morning, “There’s no permit.”

“Doesn’t have to stop us.”

Nate swallows and brings the file home again.

Elena’s deep into an article, glancing up from her work, “There are leftovers in the fridge, if you’re hungry, but I’m on a roll here.”

“Don’t stop on my account.  I’ll wait for you.”  He plants a kiss on her head then turns and pulls down the ladder to the attic.

A thick layer of dust has coated everything; Nate brushes off the folding table and pulls up a folding chair.

Spreading out the papers again, he examines the details more thoroughly.  There are other parts of the job missing too; necessary crew and equipment, an estimated cost of the expedition.  But there’s something alluring about it nonetheless.

“Hey.  Didn’t expect to find you up here,” Elena joins him.  “What’s all this?”

“Just a job Jameson wants me to consider.”

It doesn’t take Elena long to figure out what’s missing either.  Hesitantly, “I thought, we agreed we were done with all this.”

“We are.  I am.  I’m turning Jameson down.”  Already silently decided; declaring it aloud sounds hollow.  Nate shoves the papers back into the folder, “Let’s eat.  I’m starving.”

He listens to Elena explain her latest article, as always taking an unusual angle.  Her submissions may not be the puff pieces the magazine is looking for, but she’s too good a writer not to publish.

The longer he listens to her, the less he thinks about the emptiness in his chest.

The next morning, he gives Jameson the files back, “I appreciate the thought, but no.  I can’t.”

Jameson takes his response as well as can be expected; doesn’t stop him from asking Nate to reconsider every so often.  Nate’s answer remains firm.

Normal tasks become repetitive and tedious after he turns Jameson down the first time.  Days drag on, draining Nate more than they should; he passes out on the couch one evening after dinner, missing a call from Sully he doesn’t ever return.

He sequesters himself away in the attic, rummaging through the boxes of his adventures.  Most everything is labeled, thanks to Elena’s early efforts to get them settled into the house, but a few escaped her organization, buried at the bottom of stacks from before they knew each other.

Nate promised he would sort through them, but only managed to get as far as stowing mom’s journals away with anything related to Panama.

Trying again, he gets as far as extracting the box from the bottom of the pile but cannot bring himself to lift the lid.

\----------

If it wasn’t for the ladder being pulled down and the occasional creak overhead, Elena might not have even known Nate was home.

She calls up to the attic.

“I’ll be down in a minute.”

Only a minute turns into a half hour and Elena’s too hungry to wait any longer.  She eats alone as she watches the news; Nate’s plate getting cold on the counter.  Her phone buzzes and lights up.

 **[Sully 7:04 PM]** Haven’t heard from you two lately. How are you?

She smiles to herself.

 **[Me 7:04 PM]** Good. Things are good

 **[Me 7:04 PM]** We miss you

As she hits send, something strikes Elena as odd.

 **[Me 7:05 PM]** You haven’t heard from Nate?

 **[Sully 7:07 PM]** No. It’s been radio silence for almost a year

Elena blinks; some dust must have gotten in her eye or Sully’s autocorrect must be acting up.  He can’t have really meant a year.

 **[Me 7:08 PM]** Are you sure?

 **[Sully 7:08 PM]** Yeah

 **[Sully 7:09 PM]** Tried calling around the time I got back from El Salvador

 **[Sully 7:09 PM]** Never heard back

Elena leans back against the sofa, staring dumbfounded at the message.  Nate talks about Sully as if he saw him yesterday; it doesn’t make any sense.

As she tries to wrap her head around it, she finally hears Nate coming down the stairs.  She puts her phone down and tries to act casual, booting up the PlayStation.

“I ate without you.  Couldn’t wait any longer, sorry.”

“That’s okay, as long as you left something for me,” Nate settles onto the couch beside her and eats as she plays.

Her mind is still reeling from the notion Nate could go a full year without speaking to Sully.  _Did they fight?  What about?  Why didn’t Nate tell me?_

“You know, I’ve watched you play this a hundred times.  I still don’t get it.”

“That’s because you’re just watching.  It’s no fun if you haven’t played.”

Elena finishes the level and stretches as the high scores flash on screen.

She glances at Nate, absently twirling spaghetti around his fork.  Something is the matter, that much is clear to Elena, but it isn’t like before.  Quiet and distant, he isn’t shutting her out – he’s shutting down.

Daring a question, “Have you heard from Sully lately?”

Nate shrugs, “Not really.  I think he’s in Honduras or Nicaragua or something.  Why?”

“No reason.  I just thought it’d be nice to see him – maybe have him over for dinner whenever he gets back.”

“I’d rather not bother him.”

Elena frowns, “Alright.  We won’t then.”

Though his fork his full, Nate continues to spin it around.  He’s silent a moment then abruptly puts it down as if it suddenly was white hot.  “Jameson asked about the Malaysia job again.”

“Oh.”  Elena’s not surprised really; the subject always puts Nate in a mood.  “Did he get the permits?”

“Still no.”

“I see.”

“Do you?  Cause I don’t.”  Without finishing, Nate slides his plate away and rubs his temples.  “No matter what I say, he won’t drop it.  He’s done everything to try to change my mind.”

“Except get the permits.”

“Yeah.”

“And it’s getting harder to say no.”

“How’d you guess?”

“Call it wifely intuition.”  She coaxes him to lay his head in her lap and allow her to attempt to alleviate the oncoming stress headache.

Nate groans, “Why is it every time I try to move on from that life something wants to drag me back?”

Elena doesn’t know if it’s exhaustion or regret talking; either way her heart sinks.  If it’s exhaustion, she wishes Nate could find some peace.  If it’s regret, Elena blames herself.

It isn’t fair of Jameson to hound Nate like this – not that he knows how difficult it’s been for Nate to walk away from it all.  It isn’t fair that this life isn’t a substitute for the one he’s known since he was a child.

Nor is it fair this job would force them to break their promise to each other or that Elena would have to stay home and worry something could go wrong.

But life isn’t fair.  Elena knows that.  And marriage is compromise; give and take.

Chewing her lip, “What if you did say yes?  How dangerous would it be really?”

Nate sits bolt upright, “You’re not suggesting I take the job, are you?”

“It’s a hypothetical –”

“No.  No way.”

Elena swallows her relief at his adamance, but it fills her stomach with dread.  _What if he wasn’t built for this sort of life?  What then?  Will he spend the rest of our lives in this listless existence?_

“Even in hypothetical, we know where this leads, Elena.  And I won’t do that to you again.”

Though they say no more on the subject, Elena continues to worry.  Worries over how much time he spends alone in the attic.  Worries he is growing distant and drifting.  Worries what will happen if he sits still too long.

She observes as close as she can and, before too long, it’s obvious some days are better than others.  Some days she can almost forget something is troubling him.  And then others are worse; some days, it’s almost as if he’s not there at all.

Sully checks in more frequently, since Elena told him of an especially bad day, when Nate spent the entire evening in the attic.  He does his best to assure her everything will be fine, while still obviously at a loss himself.

“I don’t know what to do, Sully.  He won’t respond to anything.”

“He’s certainly got a hell of a stubborn streak.”

“Why don’t you come to visit – that would cheer him up.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, darling.”

“Why not?”  She doesn’t see how a visit wouldn’t revive Nate.

Sully sighs, “Because the kid’s deliberately avoiding me.  And I can’t believe it took me this long to figure it out.”

“Avoiding you?  That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe.  But I’m willing to bet, somewhere in that head of his, he’s convinced himself any sort of contact with me will lead him straight back down the rabbit hole.”

It’s completely absurd and, at the same time, it’s not.  She said once, Sully would go to the ends of the earth for Nate, but the reverse is true too; she helped Nate get on that plane.

“By not taking the job, he’s choosing you, over everything else, Elena.”

She wishes that made her feel better, but the last thing she wants is for Nate to lose himself in choosing her.

\----------

Nate’s discovered and destroyed ancient cities, but Sam – alive, standing right in front of him is the most unbelievable thing he’s ever seen.  He never thought – never hoped this could be true.

He’s almost afraid to run into the house to pack, afraid Sam will vanish, and this will all have been some sort of dream.  He desperately doesn’t want to wake up to a mountain of paperwork at his desk.

Elena’s typing away in her office as Nate bounds up the stairs.

“Hey hon, give me a second to finish this paragraph and I’ll help you pack.”

“No need.  I’ve just gotta grab a couple things from the attic and I should be good.”

Nate dashes up the ladder and pulls out his old duffel bag.  Throwing in his notebook on Avery, he thinks of taking the Dismas cross, then snatches up his holster instead.  God, he better not have to use it.

Back downstairs, he stuffs in whatever clean clothes are in the drawer.  With the final zip, Elena wraps her arms around his middle and buries her face into his back.

“Be safe.”

“I will be.”

“And call me when you get there.”

“Don’t worry.”  Nate finally turns to look her in the eye and immediately regrets it.  He should’ve told her about Sam forever ago, but there isn’t time now.

“I’m glad you’re taking the job.  I just wish you didn’t have to leave so soon.”

“Since that other contract got taken out from under us, Jameson wants to jump on this while we still can.  Besides, I’ll be back before you know it.  I love you.”

“Love you too, cowboy.”

He leans down to kiss her and regrets that too.  He shouldn’t be doing this – shouldn’t be running off and lying to her.  He should stay here and explain everything, but Sam needs him.

On the way to the airport, he calls Sully.

“It’s about goddamn time, kid.”

Nate grins and, for the first time in a long time, feels like himself.

\----------

“Hello, sunshine.  Long time, no call.  What’s this about then?”

“Hey, Chloe.  I was just wondering, what do you know about a wreck off the coast of Malaysia?”

“You mean the one caught in the crosshairs between monsoon swells that nobody can get a permit to salvage?”

“That’s the one.”

“Not a thing.  Why?  It’s not Nate’s latest obsession, is it?”

Chloe’s stab in the dark cuts too close to the bone.  As much as Elena doesn’t want to admit it, she’s concerned the Malaysia job is more than just a job.  And Nate’s short and infrequent checkups don’t do anything to suspend her suspicion.

Her next call is to Sully.  As the phone rings, she doesn’t hope that Nate has reached out to him, but maybe he knows something about the wreck nobody else seems to.

“Hello?”

“Sully?  It’s Elena.  I was just wondering if you’d heard from Nate.”

He sighs, “Yeah.  He’s with me.  We just got to Madagascar.”

“Madagascar?  What are you talking about?  He’s supposed to be in Malaysia.”

“I know.  Look, I can’t talk now, but we’re in King’s Bay.  Meet us here.  It’ll be easier to explain in person.”

Her heart plummets; she’s fallen through far too many bridges not to recognize the sensation.

“I’ll let you know where we’re staying once we book a room,” Sully finishes.

Elena wastes no time, stuffing her bag with whatever she can find.  She books a flight on her way to the airport.

It isn’t until the plane’s taken off, Elena’s head finally catches up with what’s happening.  What is so impossible for Sully to explain she has to fly halfway across the world?  Why did Nate lie about where he was going?

She takes a cab from the airport to the address Sully sends her.  She can’t help but notice the rampant and wanton destruction through the city, she can only imagine the cause.

Sully’s waiting outside for her, leaning against a bullet-riddled 4x4 with a cigar.

Elena demands, “Where is he?  What’s going on?”

She’s past the point of terrified.  She’s past anger.  She wants answers.

Taking her by the shoulders, “He’s not back yet, but go inside.  Have a look for yourself.”

Sully opens the door for her and Elena’s eyes go wide.  Maps, puzzles, clues, treasure – all laid out before her.  She starts to shake when she sees Henry Avery’s name.

Her mouth is dry, “Can I have a minute?”

“Take all the time you need.  I’ll go keep an eye out.”

It’s all too much to take in, and the one person Elena wants to explain it to her isn’t here.  Even if he was, Elena’s not sure she could even look at Nate.


	4. A trail for the devil to erase

Where there was no time for further explanation on Libertalia, the flight offers them all that they need and more.  Nate answers every one of Elena’s questions completely and honestly; she takes it all in stride.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all this sooner,” he says once it seems she is finished.

“I know,” is all she says for a long time, processing.

Nate squirms in his seat, waiting for more.  Some instruction or rule to keep him in line and out of trouble, but it doesn’t come.

Elena fiddles with her wedding ring and bites her tongue.  He holds his breath.

“I think you should see a therapist.”

“What?”

“You need to speak to someone who can help you unpack everything you’ve just told me.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, Nate.  I’m not.  Between the death-defying stunts and your mom’s history –”

She cuts herself off as Nate inhales sharply.

Protesting, “I’m not – Elena, I couldn’t.  I would never –”

He can’t even think the word, let alone say it.

He was more than ready to settle back into their lives, their house, his job, but dredging up his past to some stranger was not part of that plan.  He’s not sure if he could or what would be the point.

Valiantly persisting, “You need help, Nate, and I can’t give it to you.  Neither can Sully or Sam, but they’d want you get it.  We just want you to be happy.”

Elena has swallowed more than enough bitter pills for the pair of them, but only now does Nate realize she is more scared of losing him to himself than a bullet.  Nothing can make what’s he done right, but he can get better.

“Okay.  I’ll try it, Elena.”

She lets out a shaky sigh of relief as Nate holds onto his.

\----------

Nate drifts to sleep, though her head still swims, Elena lets him be.

She reaches for her phone when her fingers grazes something cold; she pulls out a golden coin.  Reaching in again, her jacket pocket may as well be the Libertalia treasury.

She shakes her head in disbelief, “Sam.”

Nate stirs, and Elena shoves the coin back into her pocket, taking out her phone.  This treasure has caused them too much heartache already.  There’s no need to worry him about it yet.  For now, they’re home.

Jameson gladly welcomes Nate back, despite his taking off without notice.  Elena writes a half-assed puff piece about King’s Bay.  It’s not as though she spent any time there researching.

They’ve both been afraid of losing each other for so many different reasons, Elena’s lost track.  And they’ve each done their fair share of protecting each other, but now it’s Nate’s turn to heal himself; all Elena can do is hold his hand through the process.

He goes to three professionals before he finds one who deigns to laugh at his jokes; that’s the one he sticks with.  And after a few weeks he him prescribes antidepressants.  He hesitantly takes his first dose and it takes a few tries, but their lives begin to normalize.

Elena’s proud of him for coming this far, happy he’s home in one piece at the end of every day, and happier still he seems to be getting better.

But of course, settling back into routine means not unpacking for weeks on end.  Their bags from Madagascar are still stuffed with muddy clothes, jackets tossed over top.  The gold untouched.

Elena makes the call she’s been putting off while Nate’s at work.

“Hey, sister.  What’s going on?”

“Sam?  About the gold –”

“What about it?”

“I can’t accept it.”

He sighs, “You don’t have to.  It’s already yours.”

“With everything we went through –”

“You earned it.”

“But –”

“Let it never be said I don’t look out for my little brother.”

A small seed of jealousy buries itself in Elena.  She used to wish she had a sibling, someone who would always have her back, the way Nate and Sam do.  But then again Sam.

“Except Nathan would’ve noticed if I tried to slip it into his pocket.  Besides, you’ll probably find a better use for it than that knucklehead.”

Elena laughs, though still unsure what to do with it.

“I owe you two far more than what I gave you.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

She stashes the gold in her office then finally starts the wash.  Nate’s home after therapy and they have dinner as though they were a completely normal couple.  As Nate talks about work and therapy, Elena’s mind wanders to the attic.

After Nate’s gone to bed, Elena pulls down the ladder and climbs up.  Neither of them has been up here since they got back, a new layer of dust covers the boxes and shelves.  She rifles through a few before finding the box labeled El Dorado.

Elena smiles at the picture of them and Sully and their first treasure hoard together.  God, they were so young.

But the exhilaration of finding El Dorado, of exploring the Spanish colony and German bunker – there’s nothing like it.  Except for laying eyes on Shambhala and unraveling the mystery of New Devon.

She inhales sharply.  In process of not losing each other, they lost themselves.  This – all of this.  It’s who they are; it’s how they met and what they keep stumbling back into.  And it’s not just Nate who can’t stay away; Elena loves it too.

The realization overwhelms Elena; she needs to sit down.  At Nate’s makeshift desk, she puts her head in her hands and steadies herself.

Daring to open her eyes again, she spies a slightly open drawer in the file cabinet.  Sticking out is the folder on Jameson’s Malaysia job.

In an instant, Elena knows what do to with Avery’s gold.

Pulling out her phone, “Hey Gil, it’s Elena.  Sorry, I know it’s late, but I need a favor.”

\----------

“You can’t be serious.”

Nate and Elena wear identical fiendish grins as they unload the boxes from the car into Sully’s garage.

Nate puts a reassuring hand on Sully’s shoulder, “It’s only for a little while.”

“That’s what you said fifteen years ago, kid.  And that’s when you were included.  Do you know how long I was saddled with all this crap?”

“I guess it would be about fifteen years.  But it’s a done deal.”

Like _officially_ done; papers have been signed.  Jameson Marine purchased, the house sold.  Hell, they’ve already converted one of the offices on the barge into a makeshift bedroom; the break room is sufficing as both living room and kitchen.

Leaning around Nate, “You’ve both lost your goddamn marbles.  You know that, don’t you, darlin’?”

Elena laughs, “Maybe so, but it’ll be worth the adventure.”

Sully sighs, looking back to Nate, “You know it’s more than a two-person job.”

“Would you quit worrying?  A few of Jameson’s guys have agreed to stay on and Elena’s gonna have help with the camera.  We’ll be fine.”

Better than fine.  Nate’s leapt without looking so many times, this endeavor feels natural, but for the first time, someone made the jump before him.  Elena’s just waiting for him to catch up.

Though Jameson did most of the legwork regarding the recovery, he did little in the way of historical research.  Nate pulls all the Age of Exploration and Age of Piracy books from the shelf and buries his nose deep into any section relating to the South China and Andaman Seas.

Elena holds her new camera over his shoulder as he makes notes in the margins.

“You’re getting awfully close to the action,” Nate teases, pushing the camera away.

“I’m going for a new angle from my old show.  A totally new format, documenting the whole process, start to finish.”

“Including watching me read?”

She shrugs, “Why not?  There’ll be plenty of time to film talking heads later.”

Nate rolls his eyes, but Elena keeps rolling.  Occasionally, she asks about his research methods and the conclusions he’s drawing.

An old photograph catches his eye and though it’s grainy, Nate knows he’s seen the symbol on the flag.  He squints at, thinking back to where he must’ve come across it, when it dawns on him.

He looks wildly around for Elena, “Elena!  Elena, you have to see this!”

“I’m right here, Nate.”

He was so engrossed, he hadn’t noticed her moving from her spot over his shoulder to filming him head on.  There’s a funny look in her eye that stirs something in him.

Showing her the page, “Do you know what that is?  It’s Juan Sebastián Elcano’s coat of arms.  _Primus circumdedisti_ or ‘You went around me first’.”

“Who’s Juan Sebastián Elcano?”

“After Magellan was killed at the Battle of Mactan, Elcano completed his circumnavigation –”

He stops short, distracted.  He wants to go on, but the way Elena’s staring at him keeps drawing his attention.

Elena prompts, “Keep going.  This is great stuff.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Just turn the camera off, Elena.”

The red light goes off, but Elena looks no less like a lioness about to pounce.  Nate would rather there not be any footage of what’s about to happen.

“You know, it’ll make great TV when you get like that,” Elena’s tone is a little frustrated.

Nate scoffs, “Like what?”

“All history buff-y.  Viewers will eat that shit up.”

“Mhmm,” Nate leans in over the desk.  “I don’t give a crap about the viewers right now.”

Elena finally puts the camera down and throws her arms around him.  Pushing aside his research, he easily lifts her onto the desk, though it isn’t long until they’re the other way around.

Their shirts are discarded somewhere amongst the pile of books on the floor.  Pants – who knows.  They’re lucky none of the crew is around, poking their heads into the office.

God, he missed this part of them – not that they ever stopped having sex, but their exuberance waned.  Or his did.  It grew less frequent, but more tender during their attempt to live a normal life.

But their relationship has been defined by acting on the spur of the moment.  Ever since they returned from Libertalia and Nate’s been in therapy, they’ve begun to feel like them again.  And then Elena’s scheme – Nate didn’t think he could love her more than he already did.

Both spent, Elena giggles beside him, “How did you know that was about to happen?”

“You got that Look on your face.”

“What look?”

“That Look you get every time I’m being impressive.”

Elena blows a raspberry, “There’s no Look.”

“Yes, there is.  You just can’t see it because it’s your face.”

“Name one time you’ve seen me have a Look.”

Matter of fact, “The customs house.  You were especially taken by my ability to read sixteenth-century Spanish.”

Elena laughs again, blushing, though it could still be flush from sex.  “You’re imagining things!  There was no Look then!”

“There was definitely a Look!  And you not so subtly asked if I was single, it was adorable.”

“But less embarrassing than your trying to play it cool and wish you had the ability to juggle multiple women.”

“Yeah, but I grew out of that.  You still give me that Look,” he gives her a side hug.

“You’re so full of shit,” she playfully swipes at his chin.

Nate just squeezes tighter, “One day, when we get a full camera crew, you can be on screen with me and they’re gonna catch that Look on film.”

\----------

Waves crash over the side of the deck and the crew scrambles to keep the barge steady.  Nate runs out to join them; Elena stays in the doorway daring to get some footage of the storm.

But the tossing and the turning of the sea makes her stomach churn.  She finds a place to put her head between her knees.  Sea legs she has – this in unbearable.

Nate finds her later, still settling her stomach.  He rubs her back, “The storm’s passing.”

“Thank God.  That was awful.”

“Bet it’ll make great TV.”

Elena laughs dryly.

Other than this one hiccup, the job’s been going smoothly.  They found the wreck not far off from Jameson’s prediction, and managed to retrieve and identify a few items proving it was one of Magellan’s ships.

If only she could say the same on the production end of things.  Equipment failures.  Crew seasickness.  They’re in desperate need for an editing software upgrade too.  As it is, Elena manages to splice together a few early clips to pique network interest; so far, no response.

For the first time, Elena wishes she hadn’t burned all her contacts by abandoning her old show, but there’s one call she desperately needs make.

She takes a deep breath before dialing, “Hi.  Daniel?  It’s Elena Fish –”

The call drops.  Elena checks her signal; full bars even in the middle of the South China Sea.

Trying again, “Don’t hang up.  I’m calling to offer to buy the _Uncharted_ trademark.  A lot more than you’re probably making off the resyndication.”

“Fuck off.  You left, you don’t get to own any piece of that garbage show now.  I don’t care how much you’re offering.”  The line goes dead.

Elena groans and puts her head on the desk.

“That bad, huh?” Nate askes without looking up from his discovery.

“Who would’ve thought the man could hold a grudge for ten years.”

“Clearly, you’ve never been on someone’s bad side before.”

If only her legs were long enough to kick him from this angle.

Ten years and coming up with a title is still the most daunting aspect of producing a show; it sets the whole tone and has to wear well with time.  It’s incredible how well _Uncharted_ has aged.  Elena can live without the rights or profits, but damnit if the title wouldn’t be perfect for their new show.

_What a waste._

“If you have any ideas feel free to share.”

“Not about a title, but have you called Liz?  Doesn’t she have a connection to Discovery or the History Channel or something like that?  Maybe she could get our foot in the door.”

Elena freezes.  On the one hand, Nate’s right, Liz could get them on some major network’s radar.  On the other hand, it’s been ages since they’ve talked; Elena can’t just call her up out of the blue and ask a favor.

Running her hands through her hair, “Let me follow up with some other channels first.”

And filming rolls on.  Elena carefully tests out the new water-proofing equipment to get some eerie shots of the wreckage.  She doesn’t let go of her breath until the camera is back safe and sound.  It feels like the first thing to go right in a week.

With everything that’s been happening, she checks the calendar again just to make sure they’re still on schedule; luckily the storm only set them back a few days.  Elena marks the new end date in her planner.

Flipping the pages, a circled date catches her eye and her stomach plummets worse than during the storm.

She’s late.  _Very_ late.  Like should run to the nearest drugstore and buy a pregnancy test late.

She can’t be pregnant – not now.  She can’t be trying to get a show on the air _and_ having a baby.

She and Nate haven’t even talked about having kids… _ever_?  She and Nate have _never_ discussed having kids.  They _can’t_ have one _now_.

Elena paces up and down the deck, debating with herself between telling him now and waiting until she has confirmation.

Lost in her own head, she walks straight into Nate.  “Woah.  Woah.  What’s the matter?”

There’s no hiding her distress, “Did I forget to mention I ran out of birth control?”

Nate’s jaw drops, realizing they haven’t been using protection, “Crap.”

“I don’t know for certain, but I’m very, _very_ late.”

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know.  Get a test; wait it out.  I can’t believe how stupid we’ve been.”

Except she can.  Between selling the house, beginning their expedition, and watching Nate thrive on his meds, refilling her birth control prescription slipped her mind.  She’s been so stressed since production started, sex has been her only way to unwind, she never thought to check.

The wait is excruciating.  Elena holds her breath.  Nate’s foot bounces, he looks like the same nervous wreck who came to meet her parents all those years ago.

She can barely keep her hands steady as she turns the stick over, “Not pregnant.”

Nate inhales and exhales, the color returning to his face.  Leaning in to take a closer look, “Is it possible to be relieved and disappointed at the same time?”

Elena considers him for a moment.  Maybe now isn’t the best time for this talk, but when will they have it otherwise?

“I didn’t know you wanted kids.”

“Neither did I, but the idea is growing on me.”  As an afterthought, “Maybe not plural kids.”

Elena stares back at the test, “At this rate, we might only have time for one.”

She’s only thirty-six, but they’ve been married almost six years, and this is the first serious discussion they’ve had about kids.

Nate catches her eye, “What about you?  You’d be okay with just one?”

“Honestly, I hadn’t given it much thought either.  If I wasn’t on some wild adventure with you, I was thinking about what came next for my career.”

“And now we’ve started this crazy venture.”

“Exactly.”

It may be a trick of the eye, but Nate seems to deflate.

She can rationalize her side of the conversation easily enough, but his reaction is surprising to her.  She never knew he harbored any desire to start a family.

Then again, the lifestyle of a treasure hunter is not exactly conducive to a family man.  Nate struggled enough with being a married adventurer, let alone adding a kid into that mess.  Even after they’d settled, he said nothing.  She wonders if spending time with Jameson’s family awoke something in him or if it was always there, unable to make itself known.

If only she'd recognized his melancholy as depression sooner; he could’ve been getting the help he needed.  Maybe they would’ve been having this conversation in a house, instead of on a boat off the coast of Malaysia.  But then it wouldn’t be them if they weren’t having these talks in the far-flung corners of the world.

In her silence, Nate’s started fidgeting again, “So that’s a no then?”

“What?”

“You never exactly answered my question.”

Her head still swimming.  “I guess I didn’t.”

He asks again, “Do you want to have a baby?”

“It would certainly be an adventure, raising a kid together,” she muses.  Cracking a smile, “But let’s get this show on the air first, I can only manage one infant at a time.”

Nate laughs, “What?  Don’t trust me diving with the baby?  They’d fit in a SCUBA helmet.”

Elena rolls her eyes but can’t help but chuckle.  Any child of theirs will have to learn to put up with his sense of humor as she has.

But what Nate lacks in a sense of humor, he’s never short of adventure; their child will never know a dull moment.  Elena can’t wait to share them all together.

He beams back, and Elena can’t resist.  They’ll have to be more careful for the time being, but that’s never stopped them before.

\----------

Liz eyes him skeptically as Nate walks through the door of the office building, “Is that really what you’re wearing?”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

A tee-shirt and jeans have served him well through all sorts of high-risk situations.  He’s lucky there was anything clean in his duffle bag.

Liz, on the other hand, is in a pantsuit with her hair slicked back in a ponytail.  She might as well be a lawyer on that courtroom drama Nate watched silently on the back of someone else’s headrest during the flight.

She sighs, but ushers him along into the meeting.  Suddenly, Nate understands her trepidation, each of the executives must be wearing identical grey suits.  Self-consciously, Nate smooths his shirt.

As Liz introduces him and begins their pitch, Nate’s ears start to ring.  He is so far out of his depth here.  He doesn’t know shit about presenting to a board or producing a television show.

This is Elena’s territory.  But she was so adamant about doing this all themselves, she kept ignoring the opportunity right in front of her.

Nate gets pride, but Liz is her best friend, there’s no shame in asking for her help.  Especially not when Elena hasn’t been in the business for nearly five years.  She did it once on her own, but it’s a different industry now according to Liz.

Apparently streaming is how content is being distributed these days.  And streaming services are more likely to invest in unusual ideas than cable television.  Thank God Liz agreed to help because it doesn’t make any sense to Nate.  Though she explained several times.

All Nate knows is that it’s time for him to pick up the slack.  Elena’s been working her ass off to put the show together and get it on the air; now it’s his turn to try.

There’s a smattering of applause as Liz finishes their presentation.  Then she tugs at his sleeve, signaling Nate to sit down.

The older woman across from Nate almost glares at him; he tries not to flinch from how much she reminds him of Marlowe.

At the opposite end of the table, one of the men clears his throat, “We are intrigued by the premise and early footage, Mr. Drake, but we have a few questions and before we make any final decisions.”

Nate nods, the room still coming back into focus, “Alright.  Fire away.”

“Firstly, we’re concerned with longevity.  Surely you can’t intend to research this one discovery for the run of the show.”

“No.  Definitely not.  The world is filled with undiscovered historically and culturally significant artifacts.  It would be a waste to stop there.”

“And what do you intend to do with those finds once you’ve unearthed them?” the woman asks shrewdly.

“We’re not interested in profit or for keeps – if that’s what you’re getting at.  We’ve already begun determining the proper institutions to return the recovered artifacts to.”

She leans back in her seat, brow raised, “We?”

“My wife and me.  Elena Fisher.  She’s the disembodied voice behind the camera.

“Yes, I believe she was in a clip or two.”

“I’m still trying to convince her to do more in front of the camera.”

“And she’s not here now because?”

“Honestly?  She doesn’t know I’m here.  She’s been so busy editing, I figured she could use some help on this end of production.”

Liz coughs pointedly.

“With some of my own help, of course.”

Another man claps his hands together, “I was curious, what demographics you –”

“Just a moment,” the woman holds up a finger.  “I had one more question.”

Nate swallows, uncertain what else to expect from her.

“The title.  _Drake’s Fortunes_.  In reference to yourself, I take it?”

“Elena’s idea,” he tries to shrug off her incredulousness.

“If she’s you partner in this, might I suggest adding her name to the title?  How does _Drake & Fisher Fortunes _sound to you?”

“A bit cumbersome, but I take your meaning.”

And for just a moment, Nate thinks the corner of her mouth tilts upward.

Liz fields the rest of the board’s questions, Nate only interjecting when required.  It takes nearly two hours to shake out all the details, but by the end, they shake hands with each of the board members.  Nate doesn’t even try to suppress the grin spreading across his face.

The woman from across the table hands him the paperwork, “I’m sure your wife would like to have a look at the agreement before signing.”

“Oh, she’d love to.  I can’t think of a better anniversary gift.”

There’s almost a smile.

Out of the board room, Nate digs out his phone.

 **[Me 1:58 PM]** Meat at the airport

 **[Me 1:58 PM]** Meet*

 **[My wiiife 1:59 PM]** What for?

 **[Me 2:00 PM]** Something to show you

 **[My wiiife 2:01 PM]** Where specifically?

 **[Me 2:02 PM]** Airfield

Nate looks up at the sound of Liz laughing, “It’s like watching a caveman.”

“Yeah, well.  Elena wouldn’t pick up if I tried calling.”

“Don’t I know it.  Going to give her the good news?”

“Already on my way.  Thanks for everything, Liz.”

“Just put my name in the credits somewhere.  And remind Elena to call every once in a while.  Jane and I shouldn’t have to wait over a year to hear from her about the crazy shit you two have been up to.”

Nate salutes on his way out the door, “Will do.”

He practically sprints across the airfield towards Sully’s old Grumman Goose and embraces him, a signature cigar dangling out of his mouth.

Between clenched teeth, “How’d it go, kid?”

“They bought it.  Hook, line, and sinker.”

“Well, I’ll be goddamned.  Did you hoodwink them?”

“Might as well have.”

“Hoodwinked who?”  Elena appears at Nate’s elbow.

“Nice of you to join us.  How you doing, darlin’?”

“Hey Sully.  Are you here under duress too?  Or are you a part of whatever Nate’s up to?”

“Oh, I’m in on it this time.”

Poking Nate in the side, “What are you two delinquents up to?”

Nate takes her hand and leads her onto the plane, “Trust me.  You’re gonna love this.”

Elena looks between them, trying to extract any information from the looks on their faces.  Nate will admit neither he nor Sully are trying very hard to hide what they’re up to, but they’ve got too much experience to give the game away.

Giving in, “Well, so long as I’m not getting left behind.”

The engine and propellers are too loud to shout over, so Elena contents herself to looking out the window as the world shrinks.  Nate’s gaze barely leaves her, except for a few cursory glances at the envelope containing the contract.

Before long, Nate can see his breath and even Elena starts to shiver.  The further north they get, the more grateful he is he remembered to grab sweaters for the ride.  Elena cozies up next to him after pulling hers over her head.

She says something he can’t hear over the rumbling of the engine, so Nate just shrugs and wraps his arm around her.

“We’re here,” Sully declared when he finally sets the plane down.

“Okay, but where exactly is here?”  Elena stares out onto open water.

Inhaling, “The sight of our next expedition.”

“You’re kidding, right?  We haven’t even gotten the Mayalsia job on the air –”

Nate hands her the envelope, “I had a meeting this morning.  They want to stream our show.”

Her eyes grow wide, frantically darting across the page.  Looking up at him, “How did you –?”

“Liz.  I mostly just sat there like an idiot.”

Her gaze returns to the contract, “ _Drake_ & Fisher _Fortunes_?”

“They want you on screen with me.  _I_ want you on screen with me.  You were meant for this as much as I was.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Neither will they when we discover Buyan.  But we will.”

Elena pulls him to her level by the neck and kisses him over and over.  She’s beaming and possibly crying, but Nate can’t really tell between the sloppy pecks landing all over his face.

Nearly forgotten, Sully groans at the display, “Need I remind you, you two have a funny idea of romantic.”

Elena bursts into giggles.  Nate bursts with pride; he’d rather their version of romantic than anyone else’s.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a crossover of Naughty Dog properties, an alternate universe where there is no Cordyceps Brain Infection outbreak and everyone lives. Both the Uncharted and The Last of Us characters are here and very much alive, (eventually) brought together through Cassie and Ellie's chance meeting at summer camp.


End file.
